


see him again

by nico_niikura



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Blood and Injury, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-06 14:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20292985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nico_niikura/pseuds/nico_niikura
Summary: Charles is depressed. He hears a voice telling him that he can see Jules again. Max can't do anything but stop him from making a serious mistake.





	1. -see-

**Author's Note:**

> Jules Bianchi is only mentioned in this. Charles heard voices that mimic the voice I hear in my own head. I wrote this to vent out my feelings during my psychotic break.

He couldn't do it.

_No, you need to do it. You deserve it, you idiot._

He put his hands against his face. He was sitting at the edge of the bathtub, the water running a little colder than lukewarm. It was almost full. He stared at the small waves that rippled across the surface, then turned off the water.

Why did he have to do it?

_What do you mean, why? Because you deserve it. Don't you want to see him again? Don't you want to be with him again?_

Charles put his hands down shakily and turned to his left. There were two razor blades on the edge of the tub next to him, new and unused. He remembered pulling them out of the package just thirty minutes earlier. Those thirty minutes felt like thirty years. He couldn't even remember how old he was anymore.

Just looking at the blades reminded him of the first time he took one to his wrist. It was the day after Jules' funeral. He felt the same as he did that day, the same hopelessness, the same grief and anger.

Today was no different from that day.

_What are you waiting for?_

He wasn't sure. Maybe it was the little bit of his subconscious screaming at him to stop, to drain the bathtub, to throw away the razors. But that part of his head was so far away now. The only thing he could hear were the demons telling him to end it all.

They were so loud. They never stopped talking. They never stopped whispering to him that he should throw everything away and give in to the darkness.

_Go on. Call him._

He gulped. His phone was on the counter top, waiting for him to pick it up. He reached over to grab it, noticing the notifications that pulsed on the screen. Carefully, he punched in a phone number, a number he had memorized months ago. He put it to his ear and waited.

It only took two rings for him to pick up.

"Charles?"

"Hey, Max."

"What's going on? Why are you calling so late?"

He sounded tired. His voice had a sultry rumble to it.

"I'm going to be gone for a while."

He paused. He didn't want to alarm Max, but he wanted him to know. He wanted Max to be the last voice he'd hear.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm going away, Max."

"Charles? What the fuck is going on?"

Charles started to cry, at first softly, then loudly. His tears disrupted the water, and his cries betrayed his true intentions.

"Jesus, Charles, wait there for me okay? I'll be right over. Just... don't do anything stupid."

"I have to do it Max. They're telling me that if I do, I'll get to see him again."

"Who, Jules? Charles, please, just wait until I get there, okay?"

"I'm sorry, Max."

He hung up. It felt cruel hanging up on him, especially considering the circumstances. He felt empty.

_Good. Now, finish the job._

But Max wanted him to wait. Maybe if he stalled-

_Do it now! Do you want to see him? You don't deserve to see Max. He never really cared about you anyway._

... Of course not. Why would Max care about someone as insignificant as Charles?

Charles put his phone down on the floor. He slipped into the tub, clothes and all, grabbing a razor blade from the edge. Sitting in the water was calming for him. It almost convinced Charles to stay alive.

But he couldn't. He wouldn't. He was determined to see Jules again.

He pressed the razor blade lengthwise on his wrist and pulled down slowly. He hissed at the pain, then exhaled at the sight of red. Red running, dripping down into the tub. Staining the water, staining his mind.

He did it again. And again. And again. It stung oh so bad every time, but the growing dizziness in his head felt so right. He _was _going to see Jules again. He was finally going to be happy.

Charles put down the razor blade and relaxed in the bathtub. He slowly slid into the water, feeling its warmth rise up his chest, then his neck, then his face. He sucked in a breath, and pulled under the waterline.

It was quiet in the water. Nothing could hurt him there.

His head pounded, and he felt so dizzy, like he was floating. Opening his eyes showed just a red blur. His wrist hurt, but it was getting duller. Soon, he would feel nothing...

Strong hands pulled him out of the water. Charles swallowed the air, his body welcoming it. He saw a faint, familiar face before blacking out.

\---

"Charles? Charles! Wake up!"

The voice was so distant. His eyes were so heavy, too heavy. Maybe if he just kept them shut...

"Charles, please. Stay with me..."

_Don't listen to him. Stay under, you'll get to see Jules..._

Jules... Charles wanted to see him so bad...

"Charles, wake up... please wake up... oh god..."

Was it Jules calling to him? Charles opened his eyes slowly to see where the voice was coming from.

It wasn't Jules. It was Max. Max was holding a wet towel to Charles' wrist, red blooming along it. Max was crying, his grip on Charles' wrist tightening.

"... hurts..."

"Charles?" Max said hopefully. "Charles! You're awake!"

"Your grip... it hurts..."

Max looked down to where he was holding the towel and loosened his hands quickly. "Sorry mate, I didn't mean..."

"Where is he? Where is Jules?" Charles asked in a breathy voice. It was hard to keep his eyes open.

"Oh Charles..." was all Max could say. He looked pained, upset. Charles couldn't figure out why.

"Why are you crying?" Charles asked slowly. He couldn't really keep his head up, so he let it lull and relax.

"Why am I crying? Charles, you called me saying that you were going to 'go away', and then I came over here to find you trying to drown yourself in the bathtub! Not to mention you gave yourself a nasty cut on your wrist..." Max beckoned to the towel. Charles looked at it, barely remembering what he had done to it. 

"I'm... sorry..." was all Charles could manage to say. It was getting really difficult to breathe. 

"Oh no, you're blacking out again. Wait right here," Max said. He handed the towel to Charles and ran off out of Charles' view. Charles looked at his wrist, then the towel, and slowly pressed the towel onto his wrist. It stung a bit, but it wasn't too bad anymore.

Max came back with some water. "Here, drink this," he said. Charles let go of the towel and grabbed the glass. He almost dropped it, but he steadied his arm and took a sip.

The water was welcoming, but not in the same way as it was in the bathtub. This time, the water wasn't trying to smother him. This time, the water was nourishing him.

Max looked on, his brow furrowed. When Charles stopped drinking, he took the water from him and asked "Now tell me, what the hell happened?"

"The voices... they told me that if I killed myself, I could see Jules again..." Charles croaked out. The water helped a bit, and Charles felt a small surge of energy.

"Voices? You never told me you had voices," Max said.

"They never... stop... talking... how did I never tell you?"

"If they've been telling you to die, why haven't you told me?" Max's voice rose a bit in confusion. Charles flinched at the sudden volume jump.

"I don't know..." Charles trailed off.

_Because you knew he'd be upset if you told him. Now you've ruined everything. You'll never get to see Jules, you idiot._

"They... they just told me that I've ruined everything by telling you..." Charles tried to push against the blocks in his head. He wanted to be present. He didn't want the demons in his head to tell him what to do any longer.

"Charles, don't listen to them. They won't hurt you anymore while I'm here, okay?" Max said, placing a hand on Charles' shoulder. 

"Okay," Charles said quietly. He smiled for the first time in days. 

Max smiled weakly, then picked up the towel to look at Charles' wrist. "Oh, the bleeding has slowed down. Let's put a bandage on it," he said. He walked over to the bathroom. Charles heard some clattering, then Max came back with a roll of gauze.

"I threw away the razor blades," he told Charles. "You'll never have those again, okay?"

Charles nodded, holding out his arm to Max. Max wrapped the gauze around it, placing a bunch of cotton to soak up more of that red. It was tight, but it didn't feel like it would come loose anytime soon.

"Thank you..." Charles mumbled, staring at the gauze.

"Hey," Max tilted up Charles' chin so they were looking at each other. He was so close to Max's face, close enough to touch him. Charles flushed at the thought.

"I love you, Charles. I never want to see you like this again," Max said quietly. His eyes were concerned, but full of love, love for Charles. Charles fully blushed now, his own affection showing in his eyes as well.

Charles surprised Max with a kiss. It was much too short, but it was very sweet. Max's lips were always soft and welcoming. They broke off, staring at each other again.

This time Max kissed Charles. It was much deeper and longer this time. Charles was euphoric, feeling his face flush harder than ever.

When they broke off again, all Charles could do was breathe. He loved kissing Max, but he was exhausted regardless.

"It's probably the blood loss," Max said, seemingly answering Charles' internal question.

Charles looked down and smiled to himself. He couldn't stop thinking about the kiss. It didn't matter that they had been together for nearly a year, everything Max did gave him butterflies.

Maybe Charles should stop living as if he'll see Jules again. Maybe Charles should be in the present. Maybe Charles should live as if he has a bright future ahead of him, with a loving boyfriend and friends that will always be there for him.

Maybe the voices are wrong.

_We won't go that easily._

Shut up, Charles thought to himself. He wasn't going to listen to them anymore, no matter how loud they were, no matter how much they screamed at him.

"I love you, Max," Charles mumbled under his breath. He was getting tired of being awake, and it was affecting his speech.

"Oh Jesus, you're probably exhausted," Max exclaimed. He laid down on Charles' bed, beckoning for Charles to join him. "I'll sleep with you tonight so I'm there if you need anything, okay?"

"Thanks," said Charles. He crawled over to Max and put this head on his chest. Max was warm and comfortable, especially when he wrapped his arms around Charles. It was the perfect setting for a perfect night.

If only the rest of it hadn't happened. 


	2. -hear-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prequel to -see-, when Charles first hears the voices in his head. He doesn't listen to them at first, but that soon changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more similar to my psychosis. I wanted to make it as realistic as possible, so I based it off of what I hear when I'm having a particularly bad episode.

Charles woke up in a cold sweat.

_Good morning. _

"Who are you?" He said out loud.

_You sound like an idiot, stop shouting._

He shut his mouth, eyes wide.

The figure next to him turned slowly.

"Did you say something, _schatje_?"

Charles looked down at Max. His eyes were shut, his breathing even. He seemed to only be half awake, if he was awake at all. He was partially covered with the sheet, his back muscles defined in the faint light filtering through the blinds. He looked ethereal.

Charles settled back into bed, putting his arm over Max. Max grunted and turned to Charles, his eyes fluttering open.

"How did you sleep?" Charles asked Max in a low voice.

"Alright I guess," Max answered slowly. He stretched, turning onto his back. Charles rested his head on Max's chest, feeling comfortable in his warmth.

"Any bad dreams?" Charles asked, running a finger down Max's sternum.

"Yeah, one where you took all the sheets," Max replied, making Charles snicker. "Oh wait, that was real life."

"I did not take all the sheets," Charles exclaimed.

"Why was I so cold when I woke up then?" Max asked. Charles turned to look at Max, then crawled on top of him, trying to crush him with his weight.

"Are you cold now?" Charles asked, laughing at Max's feigned gasps for air.

"At least I'm not the one with morning wood," Max said. Charles abruptly stopped laughing, now slightly embarrassed.

Max leaned to kiss Charles, then straddled him, grabbing his hips and moving them to his groin. Charles let out a gasp at the contact.

"We haven't even gotten up for the day yet," Charles murmured.

"Who cares?" Max said softly. He kissed Charles again, then started trailing kisses down his neck. Charles gasped again, feeling very excited from the soft touches.

"Okay fine. Let's go," Charles said.

"No, _schatje_, I want you to beg for it," Max said seductively, continuing to kiss and bite Charles neck.

"Please..." Charles whispered, his voice breathy with each of Max's kisses.

_Have your fun. It won't last long._

\---

The sun was a bit higher in the sky when Charles got out of the shower. He dried his hair with a towel, and glanced at himself in the mirror.

The person he saw wasn't him. It was a grotesque version of himself, covered in cuts and bruises. The person he saw had a dark bruise around his neck and tears streaming down his face. Charles blinked in shock, and the figure was gone. All he could see now was the soft, foggy version of himself. 

_That's what you really are. Broken._

There it was again. That voice in his head, the one that called him an idiot this morning. He shook his head, as if it was a bug in his ear.

_You're so stupid. I'm a part of you._

Charles looked up, a bit frightened. "Am I talking to myself?" he mumbled.

_I am you, but not. I am the sensible part of you. The one who's going to tell you exactly what you need to do._

Why would the 'sensible' part of him be so cruel? Sure, Charles has had dark thoughts before, especially after Jules died. He's wanted to do horrible things to himself, and sometimes even acted on them. But Charles always thought it was his choice to do those things.

_I've been a part of you since Jules left. You just never noticed I was so different from you. But together, we can be the same. All you have to do is listen to me._

Why would he listen to a stupid voice in his head? A voice that seems to want the worst for him.

_I can help you see Jules again._

Charles was confused. Jules is dead. Why would he also want to die? Charles was not that small immature boy anymore, crying and hurting himself to feel something other than grief. Sure, he missed Jules, but he didn't want to die anymore.

_We'll see about that._

Charles shook his head again, and dried himself off. He opened the bathroom door to go find his clothes. Today was free practice for Monaco, his home track. He put on his race suit, wondering if Max had already left or not.

Suddenly he started to feel dizzy. He shut his eyes, and sat on the edge of his bed. He felt far away, like he was watching his body on a screen.

Then he started hearing all of them.

They're were three voices. One of them was the same 'sensible' one, yelling loudly at a quieter voice. The quiet voice sounded familiar, like someone trying to protect him. The last one was what he felt was his own inner thoughts, his own voice, curious and confused to why he was hearing more than one voice.

_You know nothing about Charles. You weren't here for _ _Jules'_ _ death, you weren't here in his darkest moments. All you care about is yourself!_

** _I care about Charles. You should too. Why are you convincing him to hurt himself when you know that nothing is going to make him better? You're a part of him too!_ **

_I'm trying to make him better, stronger. He's a weak little bitch right now, and he needs someone to tell him how to see Jules again._

** _So you want him to die?! You want him to give up everything for Jules?_ **

_He's tried it before. I barely had to convince him back then, he was sad and pathetic enough to do it all on his own._

'Shut up,' Charles thought to himself. Everything was so far away now. He couldn't even feel the clothes on his body. All he could feel was the anger rising in the two other voices.

"You okay, _schatje_?"

Charles snapped back to reality way too fast. The voices dulled, but were still there. They didn't stop arguing when Charles came to.

"Uh, yeah. Just thinking," Charles replied. Max walked over to him, in his own race suit, and gave Charles a small peck on his head.

"Come on, let's go to the track, okay? You can talk to me about it later," Max said. He reached out his hand to Charles, who took it gladly.

_Don't tell him._

_ **Please tell him.** _

_ **\---** _

Charles put the keys into the door of his flat, and turned them. He opened the door, throwing his bags onto the floor before shutting it behind him. His face was expressionless. He shuffled to his bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Friday seemed like years ago. Now it was Sunday. 

He could be celebrating with the other drivers, with Max, but he couldn't force himself to smile and interact with people. He couldn't force himself to be happy for everyone else.

He had failed. DNF'd. Did not finish. He started so far back, and he ended up retiring. 

_You're a useless waste of space._

He was. There was no denying it. If he couldn't even finish at his home grand prix, what use was he to anyone? 

_You know what to do._

His eyes widened. "I'm not fucking killing myself, if that's what your implying," he said out loud. He didn't care if the voice was in his head. No one else was around, he might as well talk to it like a person.

_Let me put it into simpler words for you._

His consciousness faded once more. That same falling feeling as if he were falling into a pit took him by it's vice grip. He couldn't feel his skin. He didn't feel like a real person anymore. 

He wasn't a real person anymore.

_You're a little bitch, you know that? You think you deserved to finish today? That you are good enough to finish?_

Charles cringed at those words. He felt so small, so insignificant compared to the voice. The voice was so loud in his head, practically screaming at him.

_I don't care how you do it. Hang yourself, slit your wrists until you bleed to death, drown yourself, overdose. It doesn't matter. As long as you get the job done, because you know very well that you deserve it after being such a failure._

He blinked slowly, his head starting to hurt. Maybe he did deserve it. Maybe the voice wasn't wrong...

_That's right. You feel sorry for yourself yet? That you are so weak that you can't even do your fucking job? I don't even know why Ferrari signed you. Probably because Jules was going to get that seat before he died._

Charles flinched at the mention of Jules death. The voice was growing louder by each word.

_Did you forget about him? What a great friend you are. Don't you want to be with him? Don't you think you deserve to die more than he did? He didn't deserve it, but you do._

Charles deserves it. He deserves to die.

_Repeat after me: you are nothing._

"I am nothing," Charles whispered. He felt so weak, so powerless. He couldn't seem to focus on anything except for the voice. The voice was the only thing he could feel, and he felt it so deeply in his core. It was rooted in him like a weed, an angry, cruel weed.

He knew what he was. He knew what he had to do.

Charles came to slowly, and when he finally resurfaced to the world he had a different expression on his face. 

Determination.


	3. -feel-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue to -see-. Charles finally gets help, but this is just the start to a long journey to recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff for the shippers out there. Still definitely strong themes of mental illness in here, but there's more on Charles and Max's relationship than there was previously.

Charles looked down at his hands. He nervously fingered the wrapped gauze on his wrist. He felt anxious sitting in this chair, like he was about to jump out of his skin.

"So, tell me about the voices," she said. He looked up at her.

Max had recommended he go see a therapist after he tried to kill himself. Charles found one not far from his home, and made an appointment with her as soon as possible so as not to miss the next race. Her name was Maria and she was very kind, but Charles felt nervous talking to her about his problems. He didn't think anyone cared about them, but Maria seemed to.

"Well, one of them tells me to hurt myself," he started.

_You shouldn't be here. Leave._

"He talks to me a lot and tries to convince to do things I know I shouldn't," Charles said, ignoring the voice.

"Did he convince you to commit suicide?" she asked, pen to her notepad expectantly.

_I said leave._

Charles blinked slowly, trying to fight against the voice. He was starting to feel dizzy, but tried his hardest to keep himself in the present. "Yes," he replied.

"If you're starting to dissociate, then we can stop talking about this," she said suddenly, noticing his struggle to stay awake.

"No, I'm okay," he said quickly. He wasn't, but he was working so hard to not be pulled under again. He didn't want to give up on talking about what was going on with him.

She wrote something down, then said "You said 'one of them'. Is there another one?"

"Yes," he replied. "The other one... tries to protect me? If that makes any sense."

"Interesting..." she said quietly, writing more down in her notepad. "Does this voice talk to you a lot as well?"

"Not really," he said. "I've only heard him when I dissociate. He seems weaker than the other one."

_He is weaker. I am the strongest._

Charles blinked slowly, now really struggling to stay in the real world. His head was starting to hurt from trying to push back against the dissociation.

"I can see you're struggling. Let's stop for today, okay?" Maria said, looking at him.

"Okay," he replied. He kept blinking, slowly growing weaker against the push. The voice was very strong today.

"Alright, I'll see you at our next appointment," she said, putting her notepad and pen down on the table next to her. Charles got up and walked towards the door.

"Goodbye," he said, waving at her. She waved back, and then he went through the door.

Suddenly he dissociated very hard. He stopped in his tracks, eyes fluttering and trying to stay open. He couldn't move.

"Charles?"

Charles pulled out of it just enough to look up at Max, who was waiting for him. "I'm okay," he said, smiling slightly. The walked together out of the office and into Max's car.

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight?" Max asked, starting the car and beginning to pull out of the parking space.

_No._

"Yes, please," Charles said, denying the voice of having a say in the matter. He knew he needed someone to keep him safe, and Max was the obvious choice for that.

It only took about ten minutes to get to Charles' home. He got out of the car and stumbled, still dissociating slightly.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Max asked, watching Charles closely.

"I'm fine, just... feeling a bit out of it," Charles answered, not totally lying but not entirely telling the truth either.

"Let's get you inside," Max said worriedly. Max held onto Charles' shoulder and led him into his flat. Charles unlocked the door, and they both went to his living room.

Max turned on the television while Charles sat down on the edge of the couch. He was lost in thought, still thinking about his therapist session and the voice that never seemed to shut up.

_Max doesn't like you. He doesn't care about you. Why don't you get that through your thick head?_

Max patted Charles' thigh and beckoned him to lean on his shoulder. Charles looked at the screen which was playing a shitty television special. He didn't really care for it, all he cared about was being with Max.

"Max," Charles said. Max looked down at him. "What?"Max asked.

"I love you," said Charles, smiling faintly.

Max surprised him with a kiss on the forehead. Charles looked up and kissed him fully, loving the feeling of Max's lips on his. Every time they kissed, Charles was pulled out of his head and into the real world. Charles could be himself and not have to think about the voice or the thoughts of his suicide attempt or anything. All he could think about was being with Max right then, right now.

Charles put his hands on Max's shoulders, and Max put his on Charles' hips. They got so involved in kissing each other that they didn't realize that they had fallen over. Now Charles was on top of Max, snaking his knees between Max's legs. Max didn't care, wrapping his arms around Charles' body protectively.

When they finally broke apart, Charles looked right into Max's eyes. They were a beautiful blue, so full of life and energy. Charles could see his soul, and in Max's soul was one thing: love for Charles.

Charles knew in that moment that, no matter what the voice said about their relationship, Max truly loved him. And with that realization out of the way, Charles attacked Max with kisses all over again.

Max broke it off after a few minutes, his breathing labored. "Let's move to the bed, _schatje_," he said to Charles, and picked him up off of the couch. Max couldn't really carry him, so Charles walked the rest of the way, holding Max's hand gently. They made it to the bedroom, and Max suddenly pushed him onto the bed, straddling him and pinning him to the mattress.

Charles hit his wrist going down and it stung slightly, but he didn't care. All he cared about was Max and his hands undoing the zipper on his pants. Max pulled off Charles' pants and grinded against him, making Charles' cock perk up. Max started to kiss down Charles' neck, pulling down the collar of his shirt to reach his shoulder and collarbones. Charles moaned at the contact, his heart starting to race. 

Suddenly, Charles fell. He got pulled under quickly, and everything he was feeling dulled. The voice wasn't talking, just watching and laughing at Charles. Laughing that awful, sickly laugh...

Charles gasped, making Max flinch but not stop. Then Charles put his hands on Max's shoulders, forcing him to stop in his tracks. Charles was breathing fast, his head pounding. He could barely feel the sheets underneath him. 

He was panicking.

Max got off of him quickly, and turned Charles onto his side. Charles was hyperventilating, his eyes wide and brimming with tears. Max went to Charles' side and held him close. He slowly rubbed his back, using slow and careful movements.

Charles finally burst into to tears. His senses were flooded and so empty at the same time. He tried and failed to focus on his breathing, focus on Max's hand, anything that could pull him out of this. The voice was still laughing, laughing so loudly. Charles was screaming at it in his head, trying to make it stop, to make it shut up. But it wouldn't listen to Charles. It's like it couldn't hear him.

All at once, Charles stopped crying. His breathing slowed, and he felt present. He didn't know what just happened and why Max was rubbing his back. Max looked at him, stopping, and opened his mouth to say something.

He fell again. This time harder, further than he had fallen before. The voice was no longer laughing at him, but whispering. It was repeating something, chanting something. Charles concentrated to try to understand it.

_Look at what you are now, you little bitch._

Charles started sobbing again. Max had confusion on his face, but started rubbing his back again. Charles was hyperventilating all like before, like he never stopped.

Then he was fine. And then not. And then fine again.

Charles looked at his hands. They were shaking violently, the gauze starting to unravel on his wrist. He wiped his face, feeling slightly confused at how wet it was. He blinked, trying to remember what was happening, but only small shards of memory came through.

Max took his hands and kissed them. He was looking at Charles, not with confusion or fear but with understanding. Charles on the other hand was very confused as to why Max seemed okay.

"W-what happened?" Charles asked.

"You started panicking. Everything is okay now, _schatje_," Max replied.

Charles felt safe in Max's arms. He was completely present now, barely understanding what was going on. But despite that, he felt okay.

"I was so scared, but I don't remember why," Charles mumbled into Max's neck. He hugged him tightly, and Max reciprocated.

"You don't have to. We're here now, and everything's okay," Max replied softly. He never stopped rubbing Charles' back.

Charles sighed, feeling more comfortable. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"There's nothing to be sorry for. It's okay if you aren't ready to have sex yet," Max answered before Charles could finish. He kissed Charles on his head and started to hum something soothing.

Charles may not have known what Max was humming, but he did know it made him calmer. He felt okay now, especially with Max by his side. No, he wasn't better. He was still hearing voices. But now he was going to do something about it.

Now he knew he would be okay.


End file.
